from
The Hanging Stones
by
Manly Wade Wellman

As I tromped my way up trail on a woodsy slope and down trail to a woodsy hollow, I wondered myself if in all my born days I’d known such a pretty fall season. Then I took it in mind that I’d wondered myself that same thing for air fall that came along.

“He’s still hard at it to work up them hundreds of million dollars into a billion. When he’s done that, he’ll start in a-figuring on his next billion.”

“I don’t have me aught like that sort of money,” I said. “If I did, I’d be scared it would weigh me down.”

“But werewolves!” he sort of cried out. “A man turn into a wolf? How does nature explain that?”

“How does nature explain a caterpillar turning into a butterfly?” Hogue asked in his own turn. “Or a tadpole turning into a frog?”

“But, money or not, you can’t run a religion, even a mysticism, on deliberate delusion.”

“Delusion,” I repeated the word. “How much of that is there in air religion you care to name to me?”

“All religions make mistakes and cause delusions here and there.” He made it quick to reply me. “Look at it this way, John. Religions are made by men, and men are fallible and get mistakes into their religions. But when we talk about charlatans like these two false prophets—well, we aren’t talking about religion.”

“Then why does Kottler go along with them?” I wondered him.

“Money.” Hogan said the one short word and shut his beardy mouth on it with a snap.

“Yet, as undoubtedly you’re aware, there’s already a replica of Stonehenge, out west in Washington State.”

“That’s right.” Kottler nodded. “It’s at Maryhill, in Klickitat County. Yes indeed, and I’ve been there.”

Note (Hal’s): That replica exists. It was built as a memorial to local soldiers killed in World War I, in accord with notions then current about the purpose of the original. We’ve been there, too—photographic evidence at right. — end note

“We’re talking about civilization.”

“Civilization,” repeated Brother Magus after her. “The artificial state of affairs the human race has inflicted upon itself.”

“Oh now, but I don’t agree with you at all,” said Lady Sybil. “Civilization is a universal condition among all peoples, isn’t that right, John?”

I had to reply her that I didn’t know, but that civilization was apt sometimes to make me nervous. Hogue had stood quiet, but now he spoke up.

“I have to disagree,” he said. “I don’t regard civilization as a natural impulse or a universal condition. Every child born into the world, in no matter what culture, has to learn civilization from the bottom—has to learn whatever civilization and environment he is born into—and he has to make his own personal terms with it. Some, of course, never do become very civilized.”

If you all want somebody to tell you he’s nair had a scare put in him, go look for somebody else, not me. Who doesn’t know the meaning of fear, he doesn’t know aught else, he’s just a plumb fool.